Mega Whatever
by veredgf
Summary: Post S6 finale. Cristina was queen. She had it all. She'd saved the day. Then a supposibly silly accident has everything going wrong. Add to it SGH post vicious shooting and minus a few doctors and things really go down the drain.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's note:** I used to write fanfic, it was a bit Original Trek, mostly X-Files, with a bit of ER crossovers. That was during my previous, pre-motherhood life. I haven't written in ages, and that means something like 7-8 years. I miss it and up until today I felt like I couldn't go back, but a terrible mood due to work just pushed me into a writing phase and I'm having fun. I don't know where this is heading. It took on a life of its own as I wrote the few paragraphs. Anyway, I hope it's OK. Please let me know. Oh, and well, no beta since I'm so new, (well, new-again) to fanfic, so 'xcuse any errors on my behalf, and any grammatical ones, since I do not live in an English speaking country._

_**Disclaimer: **Not Mine - all Shonda's but I do like'em, but no claims whatsoever._

**MEGA WHATEVER - Chapter 1**  
**-**

_I'm super-woman! I am!_ Cristina Yang felt like she was the Queen Mother. No! She was even better than that. She was a frickin' Goddess! She kicked ass. She was immortal.

One day after saving Derek Shepherd's life by performing open heart surgery on her own, and Cristina felt she could conquer the world. She felt like she could dance. Each of her steps light as feathers as she passed through SG hospital's main entrance.

It was only then, when she entered, that she felt it; that eerie, gloomy feeling lingering in the hallways. The sort that hangs in the air after a disastrous catastrophe, and well, it had been rather awful yesterday, thought Cristina. It was quite a drag having to realize that her greatest moment in life was shadowed by many other terrible moments; by the death of some people, or the near-death of others.

_Oh, brother._ She thought. _Damn them all. Having to be dead or near-dead when I'm a super-frickin'-hero._

She walked the halls of SGH. She wanted to smile at everybody and anybody passing her by, but they were all in mourning. They were walking about the place like zombies trolling a graveyard. And even worse, there was hardly anybody to talk to. Mere was hovering over Derek. Alex was stuck in another hospital altogether, breathing and eating through a tube, with silly-freaked-out Lexie sprawled over his bed. Whatsisname and whatshername were dead. And most everybody else was still too shocked to be able to make any form of conversation other than feeling miserable about the whole damn situation.

It was like she was the only one who was actually glad about having a maniac shooting off people all through this goddamn hospital. _Bah!_ She snorted to herself. _I'm so happy, I could sing._ She just about giggled inwardly.

_Bugger all. I guess I'll go see if I can be of any use._ She decided. But of course she could be. She was the amazing goddess Cristina Yang, the super-cardio-thoracic-resident. Man, she was so damn good…

WHACK!

"Och!" she yelped. What was that? She was lying on the floor flat on her belly, her nose aching. She'd slammed into something.

"Watch out!" somebody yelled.

_'bit too late for that._ She thought as she slowly lifted herself to a semi-sitting position. Not that anybody bothered to help her out. Whomever and whatever it was she'd crashed into were long gone past the corridor corner and she was left to pick up her own pieces from the cold hospital floor. It was worse than that. The pain in her nose was unbearable. She grabbed it with both her hands only to be shocked both by the excruciating pain brought by her touch and the feeling of the warm sticky fluid oozing out of it.

"No! This cannot be happening!" She grumbled. She knew all too well that this was more than just a simple nose-bleed. The God-awful pain was a clear indication that something was broken, and why did it have to be her bloody nose. Bugger, her nose was definitely bloody, she realized, and although this was a major hospital, she was all alone, in the middle of a corridor with a broken nose and nobody bothering to help her.

_Well, you aren't paralyzed,_ she admonished herself. _Get up and take care of yourself._ But where would she go? This was so fucking embarrassing; and why on this day of all days? Where was Mere when she needed her? Where were all her friends? What friends? She muttered to herself. She truly only had one good friend she could trust, and that friend of hers was 'somewhat' preoccupied at that very moment.

The only other person she could think of was Owen. But he was in the ER in the middle of all the hustle and bustle, and the thought of going there in her state felt all too awkward.

Then there was Callie, only that she wasn't on duty right now. _Avery? God! Not him. Avery. Man. No! Christina, don't even go there._ But who could she go to? It was stupid. It was a damn hospital she was in, and she was standing there with a bleeding, broken nose, in its midst, with nobody to help her.

"Yang!"

She almost toppled over. She was so deep in thought that Bailey's yell just about took her off balance. _SHIT!_

"Dr. Yang, are you plannin' on standing there all day or you gonna do some work 'round here today?" Bailey seemed to be her shining old self.

She couldn't keep standing there like an idiot with her back to Dr. Baily, yet the last thing she wanted to do was turn around and reveal the state she was in. Not to Bailey of all people. Why did this have to happen today? Why, goddamit! What was she going to do? She was unable to move. She had to move. She had to run. She had to do something. God! What?

"Dr. Yang?" Baily began losing what little patience she still had in her. "Did you hear me?"

"Yes." She said, but of course it sounded pretty funny with her hands cuffing her mangled nose.

Cristina knew Bailey couldn't have missed her nasal-ish speech, and sure as rain, she was right. "What happened to your voice?" Bailey asked in her 'all-business' tone.

No escaping here. What a mess. What a fucking mess!

"Dr. Yang, turn around, please." Bailey demanded.

"It's nothing, really." Cristina protested.

"So why're you standing here sounding like a duck with a damn cold?"

Cristina heard Bailey's steps as she made her move towards her and cringed. RUN! The voice in her head roared. RUN! NOW! But of course the rational part of her brain would not let her, as well as the fact that she was losing blood and she was starting to feel pretty woozy.

Bailey grabbed her shoulder and gruffly turned her around and even though Cristina knew this was coming, the rough movement caused her to release a cry as new vibes of pain seared through her agonized face. FUCK! FUCKING HELL!

"You fool!"

She did just about everything to keep herself from keeling over. Sighing inwardly, she gave in to the pain and to feeling like the total idiot that she currently was. Standing in a deserted hallway, in the belly of a major, top-notch medical facility, with an injury, and choosing not to go seek help due to embarrassment. If that wasn't foolish, what was?

"Don't move!" Bailey blurted. "I'm gonna get some help."

"Not moving." Cristina moaned with her pinched voice. It wasn't like she could. She remembered how she felt on that day, standing in Burke's operating room, losing her pregnancy. Yes, she was feeling pretty much the same. If she made a single step she knew she would regret it. She'd broken her nose. She sure as hell didn't want to break anything else today. But the world itself did continue moving, both in her eyes, swimming all around her, and also in the form of her pager, choosing that brilliant moment to make its presence known.

"What now?" she whimpered. Of course somebody was paging her. She was on call. She wasn't injured or sitting at the bedside of an injured loved one, yet she _was_ injured, just not shot by a crazy killer husband, but purely due to her being a klutz.

The pager wouldn't relent. Maybe she would just take a tiny peek; the surgeon in her craved knowing who was paging her and why. Slowly she removed her right hand from her nose and then plucked her pager from her scrubs' pocket. That was the easy part. Now came the hard part; trying to read the damn bleeping thing.

She moved the pager slowly until it was in front of her eyes. She dared not move her head. Finally, she managed that peek of hers. It was Teddy and she was needed in the OR. Cristina groaned. _Why_ _today? I was going to be a mega-star in the operating room and now I'm a piece of crap._

She'd just finished that lovely thought when a wave of nausea grabbed her. _Oh God! No! No!_ She was falling and there was nothing she could do about it. She wasn't even able to send her hands forward to break her fall. She met the floor, head first, and then there was a loud pop and then nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's note:** Well, this is heading along in an interesting way. I'm really torturing Cristina, and now getting into Bailey's head. I do love traumatized main characters... *snort*. Thanks to anybody who commented and to anybody who will comment. _  
_Medical info mentioned here is based on... Wikipedia search. I have no medical training, just many hours of TV medical dramas and well... worked for a while at a hospital as an administrative assistant... *second snort*, so basically this means that I beg your forgiveness for any medical discrepancies you will surely find here, but I did try my best to make things sound somewhat believable. *blushing*_

_**Disclaimer:** Not mine at all. Love torturing them, is all._

* * *

**MEGA WHATEVER - Chapter 2**  
**-**

Miranda Bailey was tired. Now, instead of resting she was running like a mad woman looking for help for Cristina Yang, one of her better students who'd obviously lost it. Why in God's name would somebody with a relatively minor injury choose to do absolutely nothing, thereby turning a simple broken nose into major trauma? Miranda was annoyed. This was a waste of her good time. Well, at least that's what the old Miranda would say, she realized. The old Miranda who wasn't in love with a sexy anesthesiologist, acting like a silly lovey-dovey, and the old Miranda, the one that hadn't been forced to sit by and do nothing while one of her residents died in her lap.

The new Miranda was even more emotional than the old one. The new Miranda looked and sounded just like the old one but she was a complete mess within. So to in all truth, poor Cristina making a fool of herself was actually a good distraction, in a way.

Och. Shut up, Miranda shushed her over-excited mind. Where was everybody? Actually, who could help her with Cristina's injury? She rushed to the ER, there she caught the sight of Mark Sloan. Perfect.

Sloan was writing down orders next to the admitting desk. Miranda moved to his side and tapped his shoulder to grab his attention. Mark looked behind him. It took him a second to register that he had to set his vision somewhat lower than usual. By now this had stopped annoying Miranda. Instead it sort of amused her. "Down here," she chided him.

"Bailey," Mark said with feigned surprise. "How can I be of help?" He continued half-mockingly. Certainly there was no big love in the air between them.

Miranda took a deep breath. "Errm. Can you come with me?" It annoyed her having to ask this man's help. She would have preferred going straight to Owen Hunt, but she recognized that he and Yang had something going on, and one of the things she knew she shouldn't do, was to get somebody emotionally involved, involved at all. So, regrettably, she had to do with what was available, and that was Mark, whom she believed to be full of himself, and with no good reason in her opinion.

"I'm kinda busy down here if you don't mind." Mark wasn't inclined to giving her an easy time; that was for sure.

Miranda huffed. "You think I'm here asking you to come for some hanky panky? If _I_ ask you to come with me, it certainly isn't for one of your usual closet quickies!" Even she realized that she'd gone a tad too far once the words had left her mouth, but they did have the desired effect.

Mark shrugged. "If you put it that way."

* * *

"Move it!" Miranda urged Mark Sloan along the corridors. _Damn! The Man moved like an elephant considering he was built so elegantly_, she mused.

All in all it had only been five minutes since she'd left Cristina, but she had a bad feeling about it and she usually had good hunches, although she wished she didn't sometimes.

Mark kept to himself, thank God. Obviously her mean retort made him think twice about opening his mouth. _Just as well_, she muttered inwardly. Bad enough having her own thoughts running wild, but to have this 'I-am-in-love-with-myself' Adonis blabbering about would have driven her up the wall. What was wrong with her? She was never that testy. Even when she'd torture her interns, inwardly she was usually as calm as a cucumber. It had been a while since she'd been such a nervous wreck.

Losing Charles like that had shaken her core. She had to get her equilibrium back, but now was _not_ the right time.

It seemed as if it took them forever to reach the spot where she'd left Cristina, when in reality they'd reached her in seconds flat. By then others had found her and were gathering about yelling orders. Still they were the only doctors on the scene and she rushed to take charge.

Of course her hunch was in perfect cue with the events that unfolded. Things were not looking good. Yang had collapsed. Moreover, it seemed she'd had a more than nasty fall. Bailey feared the worst.

Mark looked at Cristina with utter shock, then back at Bailey. "You could have at least warned me!" He berated her.

"I didn't want to alarm Owen," Miranda said quietly as they quickly approached the lifeless Cristina. "And she was in a better state when I left to get you," she added.

Two nurses were laying Yang on a backboard just as they leaned next to her. Miranda felt her pulse; rapid strong beats but she wasn't in tachycardia. That was relatively good. Next she examined her pupils; equal and responsive. Maybe things would turn out for the better. But Cristina's response to her thoughts was to start convulsing, which put a halt on all the good, happy prognosis' Miranda was already playing in her head. SHIT!

"SHIT!" Mark echoed her thoughts out loud.

Mayhem broke loose as people started yelling orders all at once.

"HEY!" Miranda topped the din with a loud no-nonsense shout. "Everybody calm down!" She looked about the group that had formed around Cristina's still-thrashing body. "You!" She pointed with her finger at one of the nurses. "I want 2mg Lorazepam IM, now!"

The nurse acknowledged with a nod of his head and rushed back to his department to get the anticonvulsant.

Alongside Miranda, Mark Sloan was trying to assess Yang's injuries. "This is looking like head trauma," he stated the obvious. "We need Derek."

"Very funny," Miranda retorted. "I guess I could hop by his hospital bed and ask him to drop by and assess her condition, eh?" she continued with a snide. "Oh, right, he's had major heart surgery, but I betcha he can do everything, now, can't he?" Miranda did all but spit at his face. _Derek Shepherd, my ass!_ They needed to get a neurosurgeon to take over for Derek, but they'd only just realized this yesterday, not to mention that Derek wasn't only the senior neurosurgeon, but he was also the hospital director, i.e., the guy calling all the shots, and he was stuck in bed, with minimum function, and he will be this way for a while. Meanwhile they had a situation over here. _God, Cristina! What on earth were you thinking? _They were already short six doctors and a nurse, and now this! Man, she was so damn tired. So tired. All she really wanted to do was stay at home, with Tucker. But no. She had no choice in the matter. With too many doctors missing, there was no option but to come in and lend a hand, even if you were suffering from obvious PTDS. They hadn't even had the chance to go talk to somebody, to try and get over their trauma. There was no time. Not now. Even if now was _the_ time to get help.

The sound of somebody running raised her out of her reverie. The nurse had returned with the drug and was now administering it. They all watched as Yang's body slowly relaxed. Once she'd calmed down, they all jumped on her, checking her vitals and confirming that aside from her convulsions, her state hadn't changed.

"Let's get her to the ER!" Mark ordered.

"Ehmm… Mark, there's that little issue we spoke about," Miranda hinted, trying to remind Mark that Owen was there.

Mark had none of it. "Dr. Hunt is the only doctor who's on duty who also has the best training to help Cristina! There's no other option right now. He'll have to make do for now."

Miranda knew he was right, but she hoped that Hunt would be able to handle this. She sighed, but nodded her assent.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's note:** I'm either dead to the fanfic world or I can't stop. Third chapter. Story is developing into a soapy drama... what can I say. This time am playing with Meredith's soul, bless it._

_**Disclaimer:** Not mine..._

* * *

**MEGA WHATEVER - Chapter 3**  
**-**

Meredith Grey watched with amazement as her child, age three, was drawing. Jonathan was just beginning the stage of meaningful drawings. She watched as he drew a circle, then added eyes; then a straight line in the middle; the nose of course. She eagerly awaited the mouth, anticipating the half-circle, with its corners pointing upwards. But Jonathan was stalling. He chose to draw ears, and legs, hands, freckles, eyebrows, funny ones, pointing strangely upward towards the central part of the face. He then drew hair. Apparently he was drawing a girl. She had long dark blond hair with light blue eyes.

Meredith was beginning to lose patience. She tried telling her child that his girl needed a mouth, but she wasn't able to. And then he was finally at it! She was so excited. It was quite ridiculously absurd when she rationally thought about it. It was just a mouth, and here she was enthralled as if her child had just invented the rabies vaccine or something along that line.

C'mon! C'mon! Her mind urged him. Jonathan was bent over the drawing and she wasn't able to see exactly what he was doing, but she knew it was the mouth. There wasn't anything else left to draw.

Then he got up and showed her his picture. She was shocked. Jonathan was cheerfully proud of himself. "Look Mommy. This is you!" He said in that adorable childish voice of his. Meredith wanted to say 'No! This can't be me!' The mouth she'd so eagerly waited for, its corners were not pointing upwards. No, they were pointing in the opposite direction. This couldn't be! Why did her child draw her like this? She wasn't a sad person. She'd left that dark twisty place of hers behind. No. NO! "NO!"

She opened her eyes to the sound of groaning. She blinked trying to get reality to phase back in. Her dream had taken such a strong hold on her. She had lost her bearings. She didn't understand where she was, why she was there and whom she was with. She rubbed her eyes. They burnt from lack of sleep and tears. Yes, tears. Her own. She knew she'd been crying. Gradually the memories of the previous day's events invaded her mind, followed by the dark twisty place that she'd thought she'd left behind.

Finally able to focus, she turned her attention to the person next to her. Derek. _Twisty place beware!_ He's alive. He was going to live. They will have a second chance. They had to.

He was moaning in his sleep. She wondered about his dark thoughts. She had no doubt he had plenty. What will be of them? She was scared. She realized the shooting had changed everybody. Even Cristina, even if she wouldn't admit it. Maybe in her case it had been for the better, but a change is a change. The unknown frightened her.

Will he be alright?

She gave him another worried look. The moaning had stopped. He was sleeping peacefully. Maybe it will be alright. Maybe.

She needed Cristina.

She looked at her watch. It was 9AM. She should have been making rounds by now. Derek was her patient. That was odd.

She went by the nurses' station and asked for her. The nurses were at a loss. Yes, Dr. Yang was due, but she hadn't arrived at the ward yet. They'd paged her, but she hadn't called back. It was possible she was in the OR since Dr. Altman was on her way there, they added.

OR. Maybe. Possible. Weird.

OR. Derek was sleeping. She'd go find Cristina on her own.

* * *

She checked the surgical board. It was both odd and distressing to see how empty it was. Usually the ORs were booked solid. You had to work a miracle to find an opening. Currently only two operations were scheduled. One of them was Teddy's. She saw Cristina's name had been wiped off next to Teddy's name. She could still make out the remaining letters 'ANG'. Things were getting weirder as she realized Jackson Avery had replaced Cristina as the resident for the current thoracotomy. "Avery?" she wondered out loud. "What the hell?"

Was Teddy punishing Cristina for saving Derek's life? Could she be that petty? This was inconceivable. She won't allow it. If it had to come down to this, she was going to the chief. Wait! The chief. That was her husband. He was lying all critically ill still in ICU, heavily sedated. What was she thinking about? Of course. She was thinking of Richard Webber. But he wasn't the chief anymore. And even though she was now closer to the chief than ever, she had no say in any matter. Derek had been insistent that they not discuss shop between them. She hated it, but she knew he was right.

Still, if Teddy has decided to give Cristina the cold shoulder for doing the right thing… GOSH! She was not going to let this go down without a fight. Cristina had to save Derek. C'mon, there was nobody else there to do it. And if Teddy has ego issues… Goddamn her! No way!

Meredith was getting herself into a terribly worked-up state. By the time she'd reached Teddy's OR, she was ready to throw fists at her. She grabbed a surgical mask and blasted through the OR doors. She wasted no time. "Why did you take Cristina off your case?" Her tone was filled with burning accusation.

"Huh?" Teddy seemed surprised, but Meredith believed she was just too deeply engrossed in surgery, that she hadn't understood what Meredith was saying. But she would make her understand. Nobody messes with Cristina. It meant they also messed with her. Not only was she her 'person', she had saved the life of her one true love. She owned her. She was going to work her ass to make sure Cristina was righted.

"Dr. Altman, Cristina had no choice. You can't blame her for something she had no choice but to do. There was nobody else there. I can't believe you'd be so proud you'd rather throw your best surgeon out only because she had no choice but to operate on Derek, even though officially it's against the rules, but, but, but…. She had to. He was going to die. I couldn't live without him. You weren't there. Nobody was there. Nobody…" The sniveling caught up with her tirade. She couldn't continue. Her mouth and nose were welling up with yet another batch of tears.

She couldn't look Teddy in the eye. She was too upset. She also wasn't able to speak anymore. Her emotions got the better of her. She was choking on her tears.

"Meredith. Dr. Grey. I don't understand what you're saying. Cristina was scheduled to operate with me. I paged her. She never arrived. I'm sorry. This isn't like her. She's the best resident I've ever had. I will be a sorry bitch if I'd choose my ego over training her, and anyway, is this what you think of me? I don't get it. I don't get any of you at all."

Meredith blinked. What did she say? Cristina didn't arrive? WHAM! She felt it like a fist in her belly. The darkness slamming into her.

Something was terribly wrong.

She rushed out of the OR, leaving a stunned Teddy behind to wonder if there was anybody sane left in SGH besides her.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's note:** This is so far the longest chapter. I've moved to Owen's POV. Still enjoying this so much. It's taking over my life. My daughters are suffering due to GA fanfic-mania on my behalf..._

_**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Sure as hell enjoy'em though._

* * *

**MEGA WHATEVER - Chapter 4**  
**-**

Owen Hunt wasn't in his element. His shoulder was throbbing like hell. If it were any other time, he would be at home, on sick leave, resting. But this was a different time, and push had come to shove and he had to stay with his troops.

The ER was only open for minor injuries. Anything major was redirected to Seattle Presbyterian. With no chief, and too many surgeons dead or critically wounded, SG was just not up for the game.

Owen himself wasn't up for the game either. He chose to come and help out, even though he wasn't able to do much physically. He was the one in charge, giving out orders and advice to the junior doctors on his team.

With his arm basically disabled, he wasn't even able to suture a simple head lac. He hated it! He was a man of action. Not the type to sit on the sidelines while others did the work. He found himself trudging back and forth, hovering behind the residents and interns, aching to lend a hand, but of course, his hand itself was also aching.

All of a sudden he heard a loud commotion and he realized it was heading his way. _What the hell?_ It sounded like a major trauma, but it couldn't be. They weren't capable of handling anything major in their current situation. What the _HELL_ was going on?

The team realized it too. Something major was heading their way. Shouts, yelling, running, all at once and the sounds were getting stronger as they approached the unusually quiet emergency room.

Everybody was looking at him. Yes, he was still head honcho and he had to lead his people. "Get the trauma area ready," he ordered firmly but quietly.

Like busy bees in a hive, they all scurried about, rushing to get a crash cart, tubes, bags, syringes, gowns and any other equipment necessary for a major traumatic event.

One minute later and everybody was standing in full trauma garb, staring at the ER doors.

WHOOSH! The doors opened wide and in came a flushed Dr. Bailey, panting. "Dr. Hunt." She tried to catch her breath. "I'm sorry. It's Dr. Yang. She's had an accident…"

Her words phased out as he was trying to comprehend. _Cristina. Accident. FUCK! What? WHY? HOW? SNAP OUT OF THIS! NOW! GO!_

"…Dr. Hunt! OWEN!" Bailey hollered.

He snapped out. He phased in. _Take a deep breath_, he ordered himself. _Inhale! Exhale!_ His instincts said RUN! HIDE! Take Cover! There was no cover. _FUCK!_ He blinked. The doors parted. He heaved another deep breath and forced his legs to move forward.

Cristina's limp body was strapped to a backboard. Her face was covered in blood. Owen was confused. She was fine. She wasn't injured by Mr. Clark. "What happened?" The question was aimed at Bailey who was in the midst of yelling orders, sending flustered interns about his emergency room.

"Owen. Dr. Hunt. I'm… I'm not quite sure. I found her in the hallway. She was just standing there. When she turned around I saw that she had broken her nose, but she'd already lost a lot of blood by then. I ran over here to get help. When I got back we found her unconscious, lying on the floor. I'm assuming she lost enough blood that her body just let go. It's just that we believe she had suffered a head injury due to her fall. She started seizing in the hallway. We gave her 2MG Lorazepam IM and when she was stabilized, brought her here. That's all I know."

Owen was upset. "You should have called me."

Bailey averted her eyes. "Dr. Hunt, in view of your personal history, I thought the better of it."

"You should have called me." He was furious.

"If you don't mind, maybe you should have this argument sometime later. Dr. Yang here should be sent for an urgent head CT before anything else!" That was Mark, trying to get things moving.

Owen realized Mark was right. He was letting his emotions take control. _FUCK!_ Bailey was right, too. He was in no condition to help, both physically and mentally. They shouldn't have brought her here. She was better off without him.

"Ok. I'll go with her to the CT."

Bailey protested. "Is that wise?"

_Damn her!_ "You brought her to _MY_ ER and here _I_ make the decisions, and since I cannot provide any actual physical care, I might as well do something!" he bellowed.

"I'll come with you," Mark offered. "Just in case something happens and you need some help."

_Brilliant._ Mark was chaperoning him. They didn't trust him and they were probably right. He sighed. "OK."

They transferred her to a gurney, but as they began hooking her up to an IV, and the various monitors attached to her bed, she let out a moan. "Ohhh…."

WHAM! They were all over her. He wanted them of off her. _GO AWAY THE LOT OF YOU! She's mine! _But of course they wouldn't budge.

"Wha… What's going on…?" Cristina's confused voice was barely audible above the din.

"Everybody – give her some space!" Bailey called them to order. The troops obeyed. She would have been one hell of a sergeant major, Owen mused.

"Cristina, do you know where you are?" Bailey asked her gently.

Owen stared hard into her eyes, searching them for any sign of brain injury. He saw none. She appeared lucid.

Her response confirmed his assessment. "I'm in Seattle Grace's Emergency Room, and you are Dr. Bailey." Her voice was picking up strength as she continued speaking.

"Very good. Do you remember what happened to you?"

Owen almost smiled as her brows furrowed in search of the answer to Bailey's query. He loved her facial expressions. And her face was just so versatile, not to mention her tongue… He shook his head, snapping himself out of his sex reverie. _Owen! Get a grip! Your girlfriend just regained consciousness and you're already having sexual fantasies? God help you Owen Hunt,_ he chided himself.

He peered at her face again, and saw how she was slowly piecing the puzzle together.

"Oh," she blurted. "I guess I was being a real moron. Somebody crashed into me while I was walking along the corridor. I landed on the floor and I guess that's how I broke my nose. I'm a bit foggy about the rest I'm afraid. Did I bang my head or something?"

"Did you ever!" Bailey retorted. "We're going to send you for a head CT, to see if any brain matter is still in there. I doubt much existed before you fell. I don't get you, girl! Why did you just stand there like an idiot when you could have gotten help straight away! Sometimes I wonder why I even bother." Bailey couldn't stop her tirade. "We're down six doctors and you have to go and get yourself injured, you silly girl! I swear to you, there are no brain cells in there. I…"

"Miranda!"

"What?"

"I think you've made your point." Mark said.

"Fine!" she huffed. "Fine!" Another huff. "Take her to that CT already, before I say anything I'd regret."

Geez! Bailey was acting weird, Owen realized. He'd never seen her yelling at patients, even if that patient was one of her residents, when people she knew became patients, she was usually the gentlest doctor amongst them. The whole shooting ordeal played the whammy on them, and Bailey was a bomb on the verge of an explosion.

"CT?" That from Cristina. Bailey's tirade had diverted their attention from the real deal. "I'm fine. Really. No CT please."

"Cristina, you had a nasty fall. You were seizing. You're a doctor. You know we have to do a CT scan, c'mon now." That was the first time he'd said anything since she'd woken.

"Owen!" It was obvious she hadn't noticed him until now. Her face lit up with a smile. "I'm fine. Do you see any hint of brain injury? The seizing? Ahh, normal reaction of the brain. You know that. Some people seize and it's nothing. Look at me, aside from a broken nose, I'm fine. C'mon. You can see it, can't you?" She pleaded. "Just clean me up and patch my nose. I'll take it easy. I swear."

"It's just a CT scan. If it's clear we can release you and send you home. Be a good girl, Cristina." She was an awful patient, just like he was. He hated being on the receiving end of medicine and so did she. She didn't want her privacy invaded. She just wanted to get out of that bed and far away from the prying eyes. No wonder he was so attracted to her. They were the same. But now he had to persuade her to do something he would have probably refused himself, and it was hard being convincing when he was torn between his worry for her life and his wish for her to be happy.

Just as he was about to speak again, he heard the doors parting.

"Cristina! What happened?" Meredith Grey shot through the doors like a bullet and landed aside Yang's bed.

"Mere… I fell. It's nothing. They're just hysterical. You know them."

Meredith looked around and spotted Bailey. "Dr. Bailey—"

"Uh-uh. Don't look at me. She's the crazy one, not me."

"Huh?" Owen saw Meredith's clear confusion. Bailey was not with it today, that was for sure.

"Mere, I want to go home. Can you get my nose fixed, _PLEASE_?" Cristina pleaded with her friend.

"You can't go home. You have to be admitted for observation and you have to have a CT scan pronto." Owen reminded her.

She glared at him. "I said I _didn't_ want one," she hissed.

"Are you sure a CT's necessary?" Meredith asked.

"Were you here when we found her? Eh?" Bailey was exasperated. "No you weren't, and you sure ain't her doctor either, so I'd suggest you keep your opinions to yourself."

Owen averted his eyes. This was too awkward. Bailey was chewing just about everybody to bits, and it seemed she was not going to say no to seconds, either.

But Cristina was adamant. "I will sign an AMA, just patch me up and let me go!"

"And to think I was beginning to consider you as one of the smarter people around here. Oh well," Bailey sighed then added an angry snort.

"Cristina," Owen couldn't believe she was going to do this. "Please… just one scan, for me."

"Owen, I'm fine! I promise I will go home and have a good lie down. It's just a concussion. Look at me. I'm fine. I'm _FINE_." With that she pushed herself to a sitting position, as if to prove her point. She then began disconnecting herself from the heart monitor. Once the heart monitor was off of her, she started fidgeting with her IV.

"OK. OK…" Owen sighed. This was bad. They had no way of stopping her if she refused treatment. She was being foolish, but she was Cristina. Although rational as hell when anybody else was concerned, she was quite the opposite regarding her own health.

"Yang, you're a fool!" Bailey berated her.

Owen noted this was getting to Cristina, but she tried to shrug Bailey's comment off. Still, she wasn't able to extract her IV and she was becoming annoyed with the whole situation. "Damn! Can't get this stupid thing out! DAMNIT!"

"Let me do it," Meredith approached her and quickly detached the tubing from her arm.

She looked up at her friend. "Thanks," she said quietly.

"What you're doing is wrong, and you know it." Meredith told her.

"I can't stay here, Mere."

Owen found himself lost for words. He should grab her and slap her. He should yell at her. He should prevent her from leaving. He should do _something_. But he just stood there, speechless and watched as the one he loved got up and left his ER, all the while knowing she was in danger; that this was a matter of life and death.

She got out of her bed and strode towards the ER doors. They all stood and watched in silence.

And just like that, she was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's note:** This is so far my shortest episode. I'm building it up towards... well, you'll see. _

_**Disclaimer:** Not cliaming any of them.. sigh._

* * *

**MEGA WHATEVER - Chapter 5**  
**-**

"Damn!" Cristina Yang let out as she saw her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She left the ER against everybody's wishes, and nobody fixed her up. Dry blood clots clung to her nose, and the area that had broken was beginning to develop a nasty hematoma. She looked gruesome. She had to clean herself up. She couldn't go out looking like this.

Now where was the nearest supply room? She should know this. She'd just about used them all, and usually not in the way they were intended. Thought seemed oddly impossible, she realized. "DAMNIT!" she let out. "Supply room… supply r… Right!" she'd finally remembered.

Two corridors to the right and presto, the supply room, filled with sexual memories and long nights talking to Mere on just about anything, while hiding from a patrolling Bailey during their internship. She smiled at the thought.

"Ok. Ok," she urged herself. "I need… damn… I need… Cristina, get a _fucking_ grip!" Why was this so hard? Just a simple cleanup job and she couldn't find her way in the supply room. She should know this room like the back of her hand, for _God_ sake!

_Gauze! Right! Gauze and iodine, and antiseptic cream and soap, and something to tape her nose… right, a bandage… right…_ Her thoughts were all over the place.

She finally had all the equipment she needed, all that was left was to find a place to fix her up. Many patients had left the hospital after yesterday's events and many rooms were vacant, including the one next to the supply room she was in. She slipped into it and closed the door. "Good," she told herself. She went to the room's adjoining bathroom, and began the painful process of cleaning herself up.

She was very gentle around the broken area. It hurt like hell, and she was worried it might start bleeding again if she played around too much. So, however hard she tried, there was no way her face was going to look much better. She finally gave up trying to remove the stubborn blood clots. It was just too damn painful. "This sucks damnit!"

She looked horrifying. Her nose had begun to swell; it was developing a nice shade of purple and the brilliant coating of crimson chunks of blood surrounding it, served as the perfect touch, enhancing the horror movie effect.

"Damn!"

She finally gave up and taped a thick layer of gauze across her nose. It had to make do for now. She peered at her reflection for one last time. The makeshift bandage covered most of the gory parts, she noted with approval. Well, that was that.

Now what? She'd promised she'd go home, but she didn't feel like it. She remembered yesterday's high and she wanted to kick-ass yet again. She decided to go troll the OR instead.

* * *

The operating rooms were practically deserted. It gave Cristina the creeps. Despite her initial morning high, she now got goose bumps just peering through the doors of the OR where she had saved Derek Shepherd's life all the while having a gun pointing at her head. She blinked, trying to clear the terror those memories were brining. She did kick ass, she knew it, but now all she felt was empty and drained.

She kept on walking, peeping into another operating room and another. Her footsteps echoing as she moved. It was too damn quiet. _C'mon, somebody has to be here_, she hoped.

Her prayers were finally answered. There was activity in the last room in the corridor. Teddy and Jackson were in the midst of a procedure. "Yes!" Finally, somebody was actually operating in this God-forsaken place.

She quickly passed through the scrubbing area, grabbed a mask and headed into the OR. "Hey," she said to make her presence known.

"Yang, nice of you to finally show up," Teddy said without looking up. Neither she, nor Avery, who was facing her with his back, noticed her condition.

"Yeah, err…" she stammered. "I had an… err… an accident…"

This did get their attention. Everybody in the room looked up from the form sprawled on the operating table and some surprised gasps were let out.

"Christ! Yang, what the _HELL_ happened to your face?" Avery let out.

"Nothing really—" she began replying.

"It doesn't look like nothing to me," Teddy commented.

"Dr. Altman, I fell and hit my nose. It's just a nose bleed. It's nothing, _really_."

"Ok," Teddy seemed to believe her. "So you're fine now?"

"Yeah, sure, fine and ready for work." Och, she sounded just a little too eager even in her ears.

"Right," Teddy noted. "So you can go check on my post-ops and pre-ops for now? I'll be scrubbing in for another procedure after this one. You can join me then."

"O-OK. Post-ops. Pre-ops. Yeah. OK." She was disappointed. She'd hoped she could scrub in already. Well, there was still another procedure, so the day wasn't a total waste, she figured. "What's the next procedure?" she wondered out loud.

"Angioplasty. I believe you can do it without me. I might just observe for a while, but I know you don't really need me."

_Angioplasty. Bugger! Stupid, easy, boring procedure_! She was a mega-star resident. It should have been her in this operating room instead of Avery. She should be assisting with, or maybe even performing, the thoracotomy. Now all she got were the leftovers; pre-ops, post-ops and an angioplasty. Fuck it!

"Ok. Angioplasty. Fine. Yeah." _What a drag._

She trudged out of the OR. This day sure wasn't going as she'd imagined. No, this day sucked big time!


	6. Chapter 6

_**Author's note:** Sorry for the break - I was overseas... so... I guess this is a good reason for the break. Some revealing facts in this chapter - please note the explanations in the bottom. _

_**Disclaimer:** Shonda's... not mine - but quite tasty!_

* * *

**MEGA WHATEVER - Chapter 6**  
**-**

Meredith Grey was upset. Cristina had blown everybody off and left the ER with a suspected head injury and nobody did a thing. She looked at Owen expectantly. He had to go after her. He _had_ to. He was her knight in shining whatever, why wasn't he mounting his horse and chasing his damsel?

No, instead of moving Owen seemed planted like a tree. He just stood there, his expression blank. She just didn't get it. What the _fuck_ was wrong with that man?

She looked at Dr. Bailey, aka, action woman, a person who never stopped at anything. Well, that's at least what she thought she was until today. Instead of getting everybody to do something, Miranda Bailey was sitting on a chair, mumbling various nonsensical utterances to herself. If she didn't know any better, she'd think she'd gone crazy. Hmm, maybe she did. Meredith had her own crazy going on yesterday, so she hadn't quite caught up with the other crazies going on around her, but from the bits and pieces she'd heard, she knew that Bailey witnessed the death of Dr. Percy, so it was possible she was not reacting all too well to anything right now.

OK, then, it came down to her. Nobody else seemed to be doing anything. She huffed and turned to follow Cristina when her pager chirped. "Damn!"

She quickly checked the message. It was post-op. Derek was waking up. "Damn! No. I mean… Damn! Damnit!" She was torn between the two people who meant the most to her. She had to decide. _OK, Meredith, Cristina probably went home. You'll check on her as soon as you saw Derek and made sure he was alright._ Yes, good. She had a plan. Still, Owen should go after her. "Dr. Hunt, I have to go to Derek, please, we have to get Cristina back here—"

"Well, she doesn't want this! You heard her!" Owen snapped.

"I thought you loved her—"

"Just stay out of this!" He stormed passed her and walked away.

She was taken aback. Everybody was freaking out around her, sheesh!

"Fine, whatever," she muttered.

* * *

Meredith had arrived at post-op and quickly popped by Derek's bed. A nurse had just given him an extra pillow and helped him into a prompt position.

"Hey," she smiled at him.

He smiled back.

"You're up."

"Yeah," he answered croakily.

"You're looking better today." He'd woken up post surgery, but was put under sedation again shortly after. Cristina wanted him to rest, so he could get better and so he spent the night at post-op. Meredith noted that he looked stronger. The monitors around him confirmed his stable condition. Things were looking good. Well, at least for Derek.

"What's wrong?"

"Huh?" Meredith was startled out of her reverie.

"You look a million miles away. What's wrong?"

_Shit!_ She couldn't hide a thing from his soft dreamy eyes. He read her like an open book. She wanted to tell him, but he was just starting to recover from major surgery. This was truly the last thing he needed to hear. But she knew he'll know something's amiss and she really saw no way out of this one. She sighed. "It's Cristina."

"What happened?" he asked gently. His eyes looking ever so much like those of a gentle puppy; she wanted to dive into them. Just this tiny question, and the way he asked it made her feel secure inside.

She told him all that she knew and he just listened and looked at her with his amazing eyes until she was done.

"You have to find her now, Meredith. She needs surgery and every second counts."

"Surgery?"

"I think she may have an epidural hemorrhage.*****" Derek said quietly.

"Oh SHIT!" Meredith exclaimed. Of course! The lucid interval! That's how Cristina was able to get up and get herself going again, but now she was a ticking time bomb, and without a CT or MRI to confirm, nobody knew what stage the hemorrhage was at. Damn Cristina! Stupid stupid girl! They should have tied her down to the bed and dragged her to that CT scan. They were just as irresponsible as she was. She was so pissed and scared and she wanted to scream at everybody. Of course she held herself together. She was Meredith Grey, and she knew how to keep dark evil places inside her after all. Fuck it all!

"Go find her." Derek urged.

"But… but… who can perform the surgery?" They both knew that he was the only one capable and he was incapacitated.

"Find her, Mere." He repeated and gave her a certain look, and she knew. It was up to her. Cristina was about to collect her debt and she didn't even know it. That's of course if she got to her in time.

She kissed him on the lips. She wanted to hop into bed with him but instead she turned around and ran to the nurses' station. She had the nurse page Cristina. She also tried calling her but she wasn't answering. Mere knew that the cells didn't function well in many hospital sections, and that got her even more worried. Of course, it was possible Cris was just sleeping her injury off, but what if…. What if… Meredith tried not to think about it. She knew Cristina Yang all too well and she had a strong feeling that she didn't go home like she should have. Cristina just wasn't that type of person. You couldn't keep her away from the hospital for too long, let alone from the operating rooms, and there was no cell reception in the ORs. Meredith hoped her hunch was right. She ran out of post-op and headed for the nearest elevator. She had to find Cristina soon or it would probably be too late.

* * *

_***** _**Epidural Hemorrhage  
**_**Epidural** or **extradural hematoma** is a type of traumatic brain injury in which a buildup of blood occurs between the dura mater (the tough outer membrane of the central nervous system) and the skull. Often due to trauma, the condition is potentially deadly because the buildup of blood may increase pressure in the intracranial space and compress delicate brain tissue._  
_Epidural bleeding is rapid because it is usually from arteries, which are high pressure. Epidural bleeds from arteries can grow until they reach their peak size at six to eight hours post injury, spilling from 25 to 75 cubic centimeters of blood into the intracranial space. As the hematoma expands, it strips the dura from the inside of the skull, causing an intense headache._  
_In the hallmark of epidural hematoma, patients may regain consciousness during what is called a lucid interval, only to descend suddenly and rapidly into unconsciousness later. The lucid interval, which depends on the extent of the injury, is a key to diagnosing epidural hemorrhage. If the patient is not treated with prompt surgical intervention, death is likely to follow._  
**(From Wikipedia - partial quote)**


	7. Chapter 7

_**Author's note:** Short but dramatic bit..._

_**Disclaimer:** Yummy tasty doctors... just taking a tiny nibble. Swear they ain't mine..._

* * *

**MEGA WHATEVER - Chapter 7**  
**-**

Derek Shepherd sighed. He was feeling tired. Just those few words with Meredith and he was already exhausted. He wasn't used to feeling so useless. He was always on the go. If he wasn't operating he was doing rounds, or lecturing, or doing paperwork or any other form of administrative work. Usually, he barely had time for Meredith, but now all he had was time, and yet, his body was signaling quite clearly that it was time for yet another break.

He pressed the call button. Even the simplest task of fixing his pillow was beyond him. He hated it. He might as well have another nap since he couldn't do much else.

The nurse was by his bed in mere seconds. She quickly fixed his pillow so he could lie down. As she helped him into a lying position he caught the sight of Cristina Yang heading in his direction. _Damn!_ Meredith had just gone looking for her. He had to somehow keep her here and get Mere back.

"Nurse, can you please page my wife? Tell her it's urgent."

"Are you alright Dr. Shepherd?" The nurse asked, obviously concerned by his request.

"Yes, yes. I'm fine, but I need Dr. Grey here now. Can you page her?"

The nurse, confused by his strange request, nodded assent and went to the nearby desk to get her task taken care of.

By the time the nurse had gone, Cristina Yang had reached his bed. Although he felt drained, he put all his strength into somehow preventing Yang from leaving. He looked at her through his neurosurgeon eyes. Yang still hadn't noticed he was up. She stood beside his bed and he noted she appeared somewhat confused. She held her hand to her forehead. She seemed in pain, but he knew that this could well be due to her broken nose. Despite the thick bandage covering her injury, it was obvious there was massive swelling around the break and it was spreading.

Yang was rubbing her eyes now and as she did that she swayed ever so lightly to her right. Just as she was about to lose her balance she gripped the front side of his bed and steadied herself.

He saw this is an opportunity to get her attention. "You OK?"

"Huh?" Yang was quite startled when he spoke, then she got her bearings. "Yeah. I'm fine. Sure. I… I… was just coming to check on you," she said and to confirm this she yanked his chart off his bed and began reading it. Only that Derek realized she was having a hard time reading. His suspicions were getting confirmed before his eyes. He just hoped the nurse had paged Mere and that she would get here in time.

"So how am I?" he asked Cristina who was still trying to figure out his chart.

"Sorry?" She looked up at him, obviously troubled.

"How am I doing?" he repeated his question.

"Ah… Ahmm… You… You're OK. You're doing OK." Yang blurted.

"Can I have my own room, then?" He wouldn't relent.

"Err… I… errr… I have to discuss it with Dr. Altman." Yang Managed.

Derek felt sorry for her. Cristina Yang was always in control of things. She was capable of making life and death decisions even as an intern. She was that good. A decision such as this, i.e., if a patient was well enough to leave post-op was a simple one, and as a resident, Dr. Yang was entitled to make it, and was, of course, capable of making it. But now, unable to figure out his chart, Yang was scared to make the wrong decision. Derek was at least comforted that she still had enough common sense left in her, not to make any decision if she didn't have all the facts.

"When will Dr. Altman be available?"

Cristina didn't respond to his question. She clasped her head. Derek knew she was experiencing an excruciating headache. He wanted to get her to sit down. Actually, what he _really_ wanted to do was to get inside her head and relieve the pressure building up in it, but he wasn't even able to go to the toilet to relieve himself at that moment. He was so frustrated!

"Dr. Yang… Cristina… I think you should sit down."

But Yang was oblivious to his words. Her headache was taking over, and Derek watched as she collapsed in front of him.

He couldn't do a thing, she just crumpled to the floor, letting out a shrieking cry of agony, and all he could do was watch.

He grabbed his call button and pressed it constantly until his fingers turned purple, all the while calling out for help, even though he hardly had the strength to yell.

Then the room disappeared and with it his consciousness.


End file.
